Alone at Last
by JamesLuver
Summary: After his release from prison, Anna and John begin their new life together - starting with their first blissful night in their little cottage...


**A/N:** First of all, **SPOILERS AHEAD IN MY A/N! FEEL FREE TO SKIP STRAIGHT TO THE STORY TO AVOID THEM. There's also a reference to dialogue from series three, episode one somewhere in there.**

So, it's time to celebrate! How glad are we all that John is finally free!? And how beautiful was his reunion scene with Anna!? I burst into tears right at the beginning. His "Thank God...and you" comment was so lovely, and then their little walk to see the cottages...gah! I'm an incoherent mess, I'm afraid. Anyway, moving on.

I'm actually so nervous about posting this. If I hadn't already stated that I'd be posting it, I'd definitely leave it to fester. You have **Alkd** to blame for this monstrosity; she was the one who encouraged me to write it all the way back in July.

This comes with a strong M warning. If you're not into the more descriptive side of sex, then this isn't really for you. (Although they actually spend a great deal longer undressing each other, LOL.)

**Disclaimer:** It's probably a very good thing that I don't own _Downton Abbey_...

* * *

_Alone at Last_

As the door swung shut behind them, John Bates was struck with just one thought:

_Alone at last._

The last few days had been long and eventful, starting with his release from prison, an occasion that had delighted the people living and breathing inside Downton Abbey and had been the source of the incomprehensible joy that had radiated from his wife ever since.

That first night, there had been raucous celebrations to mark his homecoming below stairs. John and Anna had managed to sneak away unnoticed for a few minutes to the courtyard, where they had set about their own personal _welcome homes _by kissing heatedly in the darkness but, unfortunately, they had been interrupted by Mrs. Hughes shortly afterwards, demanding to know why they'd left when there was still so much to celebrate. Since then, John and Anna had barely had a moment of privacy together. They'd been caught up with the final preparations for the cottage that they had been gifted with amid their duties up at the house (John had not yet been given his position of valet back; instead, he'd been ordered to take a week off in order to ease himself back into life at Downton, but he was earning his keep by freeing the footmen from polishing the pieces of silver that a harassed Mr. Carson had ordered them to complete). Much to their surprise, Anna and John had initially been offered the services of the room that they had shared on their wedding night, but after a few seconds of discussion, they'd declined the kind offer – they had both agreed that it would be much more relaxed and natural if they waited until they were truly alone before beginning to share a room together. It had been absolutely fine on their wedding night, when everyone had believed that they were tucked up safely in their own rooms, separated by the door that Mrs. Hughes jealously guarded, when they'd been able to make love without flushing at the knowledge that the whole house would know what they were up to, but they would have found it awkward to be together properly again under the roof of the place where they had known such joy and heartache over the last few years, no matter how generous the gesture was. So instead they'd waited, sleeping in their separate quarters, counting down the moments until they were free to love and hold each other without the restrictions that society placed upon them. It had been hard to wait.

But now the waiting was over.

Now, they stood together in the little hallway of the cottage that was finally theirs. Mere moments before, Mrs. Hughes and one of the housemaids had bid their goodbyes after helping them to transport their few belongings over to the cottage, leaving them alone. The enormity of the silence was not lost on them.

Anna was the one to break it as she stepped forward – her first step within her very own home, one she was to share with her husband – and slid her coat from her shoulders.

"Look at this," she said, and when she turned back to him, her eyes were shining brightly. How he'd missed that shine. "Our home, Mr. Bates! It's ours and it's so beautiful!"

"Very beautiful," he agreed, but he wasn't looking at the hall around them, and she knew exactly what he was talking about. Her cheeks, usually so pale, flared a becoming pink.

"Hush, you," she said as he limped the short distance towards her, obviously still unused to such compliments. John shouldn't have been surprised by that. There had been little time for wooing and romance in their relationship.

Still, he was determined to make the most of it now. Now that he had been cleared of all charges, he intended to spend the rest of his life making Anna as happy as possible. She had suffered far too much because of him over the last few years.

Dropping his cane to the floor, his arms slid around her waist and pulled her snug against him. She came willingly, sighing in contentment as she rested her head against his chest and slipped her arms around his waist.

"I love you," she said, squeezing him lightly.

He answered her with the gentle press of his lips against hers, one hand leaving her waist to press ardently against the back of her neck. She whimpered a little in the back of her throat as she responded, her grip on him tightening. When his tongue slipped out of his mouth to brush against her bottom lip, she pulled away with a sharp gasp.

"What's the matter?" John asked at once, his breath hitching. He tried not to let his hurt feelings show; he had expected Anna to react much better than that to being kissed without the threat of interruption when the luxury had been deprived of them for more than a year.

She shook her head, her eyes bright. "Nothing. It's just that…" Her eyes lowered to the floor. A blush was making its way across her features.

"Anna?"

She raised her eyes again, seemingly with a great effort. She looked so shy. "That...that made me tingle."

The air suddenly left the room. Just looking at her like that, with the blush on her cheeks and her eyes uncertain, made the blood heat sharply in his veins. He released the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. It hissed from between his clenched teeth. Anna tilted her head in concern, reaching out to place a hand against his arm. The touch sent jolts of electricity through his entire body.

Now it was her turn to question him tentatively. "Mr. Bates? What's wrong?"

He shook his head to relieve it of the buzzing that had manifested there. "Nothing, Anna. Nothing at all."

To stop her further questions, he pulled her into his arms again and pressed his mouth to hers. She offered a few seconds' protest (probably embarrassed by her reaction to him), but he held fast, moving his mouth slowly against hers, his hands gentle and firm on her waist. In no time at all her own hands (trembling, he noticed) snaked up his body and wrapped themselves around his neck. As her fingers brushed against the bare skin there, he felt his hairs standing on end, every single part of him acutely aware of his wife's body against his.

Was it right to even be thinking about this? She had professed that their kissing had made her tingle, a sure sign that he was affecting her…but they'd barely been in the house five minutes. Didn't she have a right to take things slowly, to get used to sharing the space with him, to perhaps have the opportunity to enjoy being held in his arms before his baser instincts forced her into bed with him?

"Mr. Bates?"

He suddenly became aware of the fact that Anna was staring up at him. Her eyes were large and dark. Her cheeks were flushed becomingly. Her fingers slowly began to stroke the back of his neck. He resisted the urge to groan and lean into her touch with great self-restraint.

"Anna?" He could barely form that one word between his dry lips.

Anna wet her own with her tongue. He followed her movements helplessly, feeling the sweat break out on his forehead. Did she know what she did to him? Was she aware that he needed her like he needed air?

And then she spoke eleven words, eleven words which almost had his knees buckling right there in their little hallway.

"Make love to me. Please, Mr. Bates, make love to me." Her voice was so soft and uncertain, as though she expected him to rebuke her.

He didn't have a hope of holding back the breathless groan that whistled from between his teeth.

"I know it's forward of me," she continued, looking slightly embarrassed. "But I've waited for this day for so long. I've _needed_ this moment for so long. Please…"

He bent his head then, letting his mouth brush against her ear as he whispered into it. "Oh God, Anna, you have no idea how much I needed to hear you say that. The thought of you and us being together properly is one of the only things that got me through this. I need you too. You have no idea how much I need you."

Tentatively, she pressed her hips against his. He let out a ragged breath. He could feel himself – already so hot, already so hard – pressing urgently into his wife's clothed stomach.

"I think I do," she whispered.

"Let's…let's go upstairs." It was the only thing he could think to say. He hoped that she wouldn't be offended by his bold statement.

She only smiled, slipping her small hand into his. Their fingers linked together securely. "Yes, let's."

Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she began to lead him up the staircase. Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears. She had never led a man to bed before. On their wedding night, she and John had arrived at different times. There had been no playful banter, just an overwhelming desire to consummate and placate the aching itch that had flared up maddeningly at so many different times in their courtship. Now, her stomach was full of nervous butterflies. She was aware of the way the stairs creaked loudly beneath her feet as she led her husband up them. His face was tilted towards hers, his dark eyes burning her delectably and sending liquid heat to the most intimate parts of her body. His face, thinner than she liked, was open and so devoted. She felt as though she could drown in his love.

Her foot hit the landing at the top of the stairs, and she stumbled slightly before regaining her footing. She looked into his face and saw him grinning. Her heart swelled in her chest. Seeing him amused by her awkwardness was something that she had sometimes thought she'd never see again. She was so thankful that all of her fears had been unfounded, that this was truly happening.

Their bedroom stood at the end of the corridor. Suddenly, her heart began to pound in her chest. She hadn't been in a room alone with her husband since their wedding night all that time ago. She was nervous, there was no denying it. But she needed this. And she knew he did too. John had stopped behind her, clearly waiting for her to make the first move, to be the one to set the pace for them. Gathering her remaining courage in both hands, she forced her feet to start moving again. John followed quietly behind her, giving her fingers a squeeze. The gesture comforted her like no other.

At the bedroom door, he wrapped his arms around her from behind as she reached out and grasped the doorknob in her hand. She could feel the warmth of his hands even through the layers of her clothes, and closed her eyes against the sensation. There was no way she could resist this. She had been speaking the truth earlier. She needed him to make love to her.

She turned the handle and pushed open the door.

Behind her, she heard her husband's sharp intake of breath. It was the first time that they had both laid eyes on the room that would eventually become their safe haven. Cheery yellow curtains hung from the windows. There was a small wardrobe against one of the walls, which was plenty big enough to hold all of their modest clothing. There was a matching pair of cabinets, one next to each side of the bed. Anna could already imagine them filled; her side with her button box and the stack of letters that had become her lifeline during his incarceration, his with a picture of her and a various assortment of books. There was an antique-looking vanity table, complete with looking glass, squashed in near the wardrobe.

It might not have been much, but to the both of them it was absolutely perfect.

Anna was the first one to break from their motionlessness, tentatively stepping into what would become their shared space. John released his hold on her waist and followed her, content to spend his time taking everything in.

It wasn't homely just yet, but it soon would be.

Anna's eyes were transfixed on the bed that dominated the majority of the space in the room. It wasn't as big as the one that they'd shared on their wedding night. It was no extravagant four poster, and it didn't have luscious, plump pillows. And yet Anna knew that it would be the best bed that she had ever slept in, simply because she would be sharing it with him every night. That thought re-ignited the ardour that had been temporarily forgotten, and she turned back to her husband with fire in her eyes. He was still regarding the room with quiet interest.

_He's mine,_ she thought giddily, _he's all mine._

They were truly alone.

With this thought in mind, Anna stepped towards him. His eyes were on her at once, watching her every movement. Feeling slightly awkward at the attention, she moved her hands to the back of the dress, feeling the intricate pattern of buttons. Slowly, she flicked one open. And then another.

"Anna?" She could hear how hoarse his voice was. It made her knees tremble. But she didn't stop, just held his gaze firmly.

There wasn't enough oxygen in the room. He could only stare, transfixed, as she slowly began to shrug the dress from her shoulders.

The spell was broken as soon as the first bit of her bare shoulders was exposed to him. In an instant he had closed the short distance between them and brought his lips down onto hers. She gave a squeak of surprise at his enthusiasm, but fought to free her arms from the cumbersome material so that she could wrap them around his neck and push herself flush against him. The dress pooled uselessly around her waist and stayed there, caught between their bodies. John heard himself groaning against Anna's mouth as the steel barricade of her corset came into contact with his chest, and he swept one hand down her back to fiddle deliriously with its ties, distracted by the feel of Anna's tongue underneath his. He could barely comprehend what was happening. He was shivering like he was running a fever, and he was aching so much that he thought he would explode.

She broke away when the need for air became too much, resting her forehead against his chin, panting hard. He held her tightly against him, trembling, waiting for her to recover. When she had done, she pushed him away a little. The dress fell to the floor with a soft sound, and she stepped out of it, standing before him in only her undergarments. The sight was so simple and so erotic that he could barely contain himself.

She bit her lip shyly, resisting the urge to cross her arms over herself, even though she was still adequately covered. She was not used to feeling so exposed and vulnerable. Still, she couldn't help but like it as John's eyes, soft and loving, swept over her curves. It was a look of such unfashioned desire that she was sure it would never cease to affect her. John stepped towards her again, holding his arms out in front of him so that he could sweep her up. She sighed against his chest, her own hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders.

"Mr. Bates?" she mumbled as she felt his lips against her hair.

"Yes?"

"Don't you think you're a little overdressed for such an occasion?"

He exhaled heavily against her. "Am I?"

She nodded decisively. "Yes."

Her fingers moved to push his jacket from his shoulders, and he let go of her long enough to battle his way out of it. She could feel the heat of his skin through the thin layer of his shirt. It made her quiver with anticipation – soon, that heat would be setting fire to her.

As her fingers moved up to wrestle with his stiff collar and tie, he tipped her head back and moved his mouth back over hers, already missing the intimate contact between them. She kissed him back with equal ardour, shivering as his hands came up to cup her face. The pads of his fingers were deliciously rough against her cheeks, and she tilted her head back further, eyes closed, encouraging him to deepen the kiss, fighting blindly to relieve him of the tie. It was a lamentable fact that she had not had more practice undressing him; undressing a woman required so many different – and less enjoyable – skills. At last she worked it free – no mean feat when she'd been going in blindly, attention thoroughly diverted by her husband's mouth – and threw it triumphantly to the floor. He smiled at her as she broke away from him, panting for breath.

"I think we should get you out of the rest of your clothes now," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

"You're not even half undressed yet," she gasped.

"We can rectify that afterwards," he said. "Anna, I need to see you now."

The raw need in his voice made her groan aloud. His hands returned to the laces of her corset.

"Show me how to undo them," he breathed.

Her hands moved over his. They were shaking so badly that she could barely manage to unlace it herself. He soon caught on, and she abandoned the task completely to him with relief. No words were exchanged as this ritual came to pass. John's face was screwed up in concentration. The expression on his usually collected and impassive face was so endearing and charming that Anna couldn't help raising a hand to his face and smoothing her fingers over it. He kissed them briefly as they brushed over his lips, but for the most part he gave no indication that he noticed what she was doing. He simply continued on with his task slowly and meticulously. Anna didn't know how he had such self-restraint. She herself could barely contain herself as he worked the corset ties loose, freeing her from her restrictions, getting her one step closer to being completely exposed before him.

And, at long last, he'd succeeded in his task. The corset was loose, and John let go of his hold on the ties so that it fell to the floor between them. Now that the steel barricade was gone, nothing could stop him from moving his hands up to cup her soft breasts through the last remaining layers of her clothes. She couldn't stifle her groan of appreciation. His hands were so warm, and they caressed her soft skin so tenderly, his fingers finding the ridge of her nipple and brushing across it gently, working on it until it began to stir and change beneath her layers. The brushing of his fingers was sending exquisite waves into the bottom of her stomach. They manifested themselves in a stirring even lower, and she shifted her hips closer to his, answering the primitive call. John only smiled at her. His hands shifted to her next layer, slowly beginning to prise it from her body, savouring the moment as though she was a Christmas gift. Years of reigning in his desire for her had left him with a willpower of steel, and although his body was throbbing with desperation to feel her warmth around him once again, he steadied himself. It would only be their second night together. Anna had been waiting for this moment just as long as he had. He didn't want to rush it and leave her disappointed. She deserved the best that he could give her. She deserved more than a hurried fumble. She deserved to be made love to slowly, to feel every inch of her skin being worshipped by him, to learn in great detail what those feelings of pleasure could do.

His palm brushed against her warm, flat belly as he removed the final layer of clothing from her upper body. She gasped at the contact, arching into him. His other hand, resting on her back, felt the ripple of her spine. It was exquisite. His arousal heightened. The front of his trousers was painful now. She moved in to kiss him.

John kept her at bay, letting his eyes roam over the territory that had been exposed to him. Her shoulders were snow white, elegantly sloped. Her neck was long and delicate; he could imagine himself losing himself in that intriguing expanse of skin for hours. Her breasts were more perfect than he could remember. He reached out, cupped them within each hand. They fit perfectly, as though they had been crafted just for that exercise. Her nipples were rosy, flawless. The curve of her hip was mesmerising, her skin firm and supple. He touched her stomach, and was rewarded with a low moan. When he returned his eyes to her face, he noticed that she was blushing a pretty pink, eyes cast down.

"What's the matter?" he asked breathlessly, his fingers gently raising her chin. She bit her lip. He suppressed the urge to take that lip with his own teeth.

"I don't know," she shrugged helplessly. "I just feel a little strange. No one's ever looked at me like this before. And it's been so long since you last did it; I'd forgotten what it feels like."

"I should hope no one's seen you like this before," he teased. Sobering, he stroked his fingers over her cheeks. "There's no need to feel shy, Anna. You're so perfect in every way. I'll never be able to comprehend the fact that you're mine. I love you."

She echoed his last sentiment, allowing him to lower his hands to her final layer. She held her breath as she felt her undergarments being slid down her hips, his fingers grazing her warm skin deliciously. She remembered what she had slipped on earlier that morning, hidden underneath the rest of her layers, and her breathing became heavier at the mere thought of him discovering his reward.

And he did. His hands paused when he felt the silken material meeting his hand instead of her skin, and he dipped his head to inspect it more closely. His own breathing began to accelerate.

"Well, well," he said, his voice hoarse. "What's this?"

His fingers began to trace over the material, and she shivered. "What do you think it is?"

"I think it's better than my wildest dream," was his reply. "Sweet Lord, Anna, is that...?"

"Yes, it is," she replied with a teasing smirk.

He groaned aloud, and continued on with his task of ridding her of her undergarments. Finally, they were around her ankles, useless and unwanted. Her legs were shaky as she stepped out of them. She was completely exposed to him. She resisted the urge to cover herself; the worshipful look in his eyes was a great reassurance.

John released the breath that he hadn't even been aware that he'd been holding, escaping as an appreciative sigh.

Parts of her were warming effectively as his gaze dropped below her waistline, to her thigh, where the garter she'd purchased from France was sitting prettily. His eyes were dark and carnal. As if in a trance, he reached for her again. His hands rested on her hips, pulling her towards him. It felt delicious, to be naked and pressed against his clothed body. She could feel the searing heat from the front of his trousers, pulsing urgently against his stomach. His hands slid from her hips to grasp at her backside tightly, kneading the sensitive skin and making her moan aloud. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. It felt wonderful. She offered her face to him. He took the invitation, smothering her mouth with his own. Their tongues tangled. He tasted wonderful. His right hand moved from her backside to her thigh, where it toyed with the silken material of the garter. She dropped her hand, thinking he wanted help removing it, but he stopped her gently.

"Not yet," he panted. "Leave it there for now. I like it."

Heat pooled in her veins. She had hoped that he would like it when she'd purchased it, and his face when she'd relayed the news to him quietly had certainly gone a long way in reassuring her that he would, but she'd expected him to take it off fairly quickly to move things along, not toy with it the way that he was. His hand felt so wonderful against her.

And then his hand left the garter to run slowly up the length of her body. She quivered beneath his touch, loving the way that his fingers trailed softly over the sensitive skin of her throat. His hands slid to the back of her neck, then began to toy with the pins that held her hair in its tight bun. She cocked her head slightly, peering up into his face.

"I have to have your hair down," was his husky answer to her questioning look. "Will you help me?"

She responded by bringing her own trembling hands up to her hair, expertly pulling out the pins that kept her hair looking neat during the day. She could hear her husband's breathing growing heavier and faster with every pin that she removed, until it fell from its bun to hang in the plait that she sometimes twined it into before pinning it up. John's hands were over it at once, finding the inconspicuous tie at the end and pulling it free. Slowly, as if in a trance, he combed his fingers through it, separating the strands, letting the locks tumble freely, wavy and beautiful. Anna's own breathing had begun to quicken at the feel of his hands playing so lethargically through her hair, brushing her scalp gently and twining it in his fingers. There was something so deeply soothing, so reverent about the way that he was touching her that it couldn't help but make Anna's eagerness to have her husband's hands on her body grow. She thought she'd started to make a quiet whimpering noise in the back of her throat, but it was soon muffled by the soft press of her husband's lips against hers. His fingers grazed the bare skin of her neck and shoulders as his hands passed yet again through her hair, and she pulled away with a gasp, resting her head against his chest. John seemed to know exactly what she needed, for his hands reluctantly left her hair to return to the delicate skin of her hips.

He began to back her up slowly. She complied willingly, grasping fistfuls of his shirt in her hands. Her head was swimming. She felt on fire. She desperately needed him to sate it. When her legs hit the side of the unfamiliar bed, she let her knees fold beneath her, sinking down into the comfort of the sheets. John followed her, leaning his weight against the side of the bed and pressing into her. Anna pawed desperately at his shirt, sliding her hands to the front so that she could fumble with the buttons. Half-mad, she was desperate to feel some sort of intimate contact between them. Her fingers accidently brushed against the wiry hairs on his chest as she worked the top three buttons open, and it sent a jolt of electricity down her spine. Her sound of appreciation was high-pitched and long. Almost delirious now that she had touched him in such a way, she pushed insistently at the shirt, but it wasn't open enough for him to discard. John was still leaning against her. Now no longer quite as composed as he'd been minutes earlier, he began to rock his hips against hers. The material of his trousers was sending incredible sensations through her body. He was choking lowly. His breath was hot and wet against her ear. She turned her head to the side, was met with a noseful of his hair, and exhaled hard against it. There was a keening whine in that breath. Her feet hooked themselves around the backs of his knees as she pressed more urgently against him. His weight was so heavy and salacious. Now that he was flush against her, he seemed to have lost all motor skills. Anna took it upon herself to nudge him up a little so that she could resume the task of opening the buttons on his shirt. She had almost accomplished that task now. Her hands were at his stomach. He was quivering. She glanced up to find him staring at her, his eyes dark and loving. Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn't still her fingers. Instead, she carried on her task of pushing his shirt from his shoulders. It made a whispering noise against his skin. He helped her pull it free from his arms, then reached down to untuck it from his trousers. Anna took it within her hands and threw it blindly into one of the corners of the room. John grinned as her hands returned immediately to his chest, raking her fingers through the hairs there. She was curious, pushing him back so that she could sit up and explore him more easily. Her fingers came up to tease boldly at his nipples, remembering the way that he had played with hers and how good it had made her feel, so, applying the same techniques, she delighted in the moan of pleasure that he emitted at the sensation. Her eyes raked over his form. His shoulders were still broad, strong. There were a few marks on his body that she had never seen before, and she touched them curiously.

"Where are these from?" she asked.

"They're not important," he said, moving to kiss her.

She kept him at bay. "They're important to me. What happened?"

He shrugged in that infuriating manner of his, as though his pain and suffering was a trivial matter which should be of great importance to nobody. "I took a few knocks here and there. I was in prison, it wasn't exactly going to be rosy, was it? But honestly, Anna, they're nothing to feel concerned over."

"I beg to differ," she countered. "Why didn't you tell me about these?"

"What was the point? There was nothing you could have done to stop any of it from happening, and you would only have worried more. I didn't want that for you."

"I wish you'd stop making my decisions for me." Her tone was a little sharp. "I'm your wife, Mr. Bates. You're supposed to be able to trust me completely, to burden me with anything. I'm not a china doll. I can handle it."

He could tell by the light in her eyes that she was working herself into an indignant state. Wishing to postpone one of her little rants, he moved his lips to her shoulder. She relaxed a little at once.

"Let's not argue now," he said. "We have other matters to take care of first." He emphasised his point by rocking his hips against hers.

The brief feel of his hardness against her made her mind fuzz. She couldn't continue on with the conversation then, no matter how much she wanted to. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to formulate another coherent sentence until her need was sated. So, filing the comments away for a more appropriate time, she surrendered and resumed her exploration of the broad expanse of skin that had been revealed to her. He was much thinner than she remembered, an adverse effect of the prison diets. When she chanced a glance in his direction, she found him staring a little over her head. With a start, she realised that he felt as awkward as she had done when he had been scrutinising her. She knew that he had deep-seated insecurities about being unsuitable for her because of his age and infirmity, but as she looked upon him, she felt nothing but love and desire; this was a _man's_ body, fully matured, completely cultured. This body was not a boy's masquerading as a man's. There were no oddly shaped parts that he had not grown into yet. No, Anna could not even be tempted by anyone any younger. They would not carry the same life experiences, would never compare in the way that he held himself. Her husband was a man through and through, and it set her even more alight. She had dreamt of this moment for so long, of having him around her once again, helping her to recall every exquisite moment of their wedding night, his body hers and hers alone. She had dreamt of feeling those firm muscles convulsing beneath her fingertips, tight in both his forearms and his shoulder blades. She had dreamt of feeling him so heavy against her, his weight warm and intoxicating.

"Mr. Bates," she said, and he finally looked at her. "You're perfect."

He could detect no lies in her eyes; the honesty there was overwhelming. She tilted her head up, and he leaned down to kiss her. Her hands crept up to splay against his chest. She could feel his heart beating against her palm. It was hard and fast. She knew hers was responding in a similar manner. Her fingers curled in his chest hair. It felt so good. Slowly, she began to lean backwards, immersing herself amongst the unfamiliar sheets again. He followed her, mouth still moving against hers, until he was lying heavily on top of her. Her hands slid to his hair, tugging at the locks. He seemed to like that, for he made a growling sound in the back of his throat. His fingers curled in the bed sheets. His chest was pressed against hers. Each time they shifted, fresh waves of excitement lanced through her body. God, she needed him.

Her hands snaked down to the edge of his trousers. She found the buttons there and flicked them open desperately, almost crazed with her desire to have him as naked as she was. From her angle, it was difficult for her to push his trousers down over his hips, so John reluctantly pulled away long enough to fight them off. Anna sat up to watch him. He had an intriguing line of dark hair which arrowed down from his stomach and disappeared tantalisingly out of reach when it reached the top of his shorts.

He gestured to the top of the bed. "Why don't you move up there? I'll be with you in just a moment."

She nodded, feeling a heady thrill at his words, then shuffled up until she was reclining against the pillows. She lay back on the bed and watched him as he wriggled out of his final piece of clothing, stretching out her limbs. He was back over her in a second, not even noticing the pain in his knee as his eyes roved over the pale canvas of her skin.

"Anna," he rasped, guiding one finger the length of her body, "you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on."

She felt shy, unused to having someone's eyes roaming over her body, but she couldn't stop the pleased flush at his words. Her own hands came up to touch him, one anchoring itself to his shoulder while the other combed through the thick, dark hair on his chest. She splayed her hand over his heart, trying to count the beats thumping against her palm, but they all blurred deliciously into one. Her eyes drifted up to his face to find him staring heatedly at her. And then he bent his head to hers, meeting her lips in a kiss so soft that she almost melted beneath him. They stayed that way for almost a minute, simply kissing each other with barely the lightest of touches, before John pressed his mouth more firmly against hers, brushing his tongue over her lips and encouraging her to open up to him. She did so eagerly, and as soon as his tongue touched hers, the frenzied passion from earlier overtook them again.

John's hand drifted towards her breast, cupping the round flesh within his palm, kneading it gently as he kissed her. Anna pulled away from him with a gasp, opening her eyes to watch as he massaged her flesh. Her nipple peeked from between his fingers, and he moved his head down to flick his tongue against it. She groaned loudly, incredibly grateful for the fact that they were completely alone in the cottage, and John smiled against her, glad that she was so responsive to his touch. His other hand massaged the breast that was not receiving any attention from his mouth, his fingers pinching at the nipple and sending jolts of pleasure through her body. She mewled, arching up against him. The onslaught of pleasure was overwhelming; she could feel herself throbbing so hard that it was almost unbearable, a frantic heartbeat in her lower half.

Giving her nipple a few extra moments of attention, he finally pulled away from her. Anna's eyes flew open at once at the loss of contact, and John smiled at her, reaching up to kiss her hand.

"I think it's time we got rid of this now," he said, his voice scratchy as his fingers came to play against her garter.

She nodded hastily, silently willing him to hurry.

But John was as leisurely as ever as he shifted his entire body down the bed so that his head was level with her thigh. Both of his hands came round to cup her thigh, and he kissed her just below the garter, letting his lips linger against her skin, nipping at her flesh in between. She sighed above him, desperate for him to move things along. She was sure that she was going to combust if he didn't.

His fingers played over the garter for a few moments more before he gave into the temptation and shifted his head. Anna expected to feel his fingers move to pull it roughly from her...

...But instead she was given an entirely different experience as John's mouth came to press over the edge of the material. The next thing she was aware of was the fact that he'd taken the garter between his teeth.

_Oh, good lord._

Anna whimpered loudly as her husband slowly began to drag the garter down her thigh. The silken material felt so sensual against her skin, and the fact that she could feel his teeth and tongue grazing her only served to make her hotter. He shifted further down as he reached her knee, taking a few seconds to run his tongue over her kneecap, before continuing onwards. His teeth were scraping her skin so wonderfully. Her breath hitched. And still the garter moved, soothing the places his tongue had ravaged, making her quiver.

At long last he reached her foot and sent the garter flying to the floor with a triumphant jerk of his head. He grinned at her, a wicked grin, and then proceeded to tease at her ankles, letting his tongue run over the sensitive skin, taking her skin between his teeth and biting down gently. She was gasping loudly; up until this point she hadn't even known that such an area could be so responsive to his touch. And, somehow, it was only making her more aroused than ever before. She tried to let him know what she wanted by pulling her leg away from him. For a moment he looked confused, but when he looked up into her face to see her flushed and wild-eyed, he knew what she wanted him to do.

What _he _wanted to do.

Moving back up her body, John shifted her thighs further apart, opening her up to him completely. He drew a sharp intake of breath at the sight of her. He reached out and touched a finger to her. She moaned at once, and he shuddered at the feel of her. She was deliciously wet, so sensually warm.

"Please, Mr. Bates," Anna managed to mutter. "Please."

When she made a pathetic whimpering sound, he finally indulged her.

Dear God, she was almost on fire. The blood in her veins was so hot, and the pit of her stomach felt like a furnace. She was sure that she was going to combust at any moment. John altered the angle of his hand so that his palm lay flat against her, twisting his thumb so that he could search earnestly for the hard little nub that was secreted away. She cried out incoherently when he found that part of her, and he concentrated his efforts there, alternating between pushing deeper with his fingers and rubbing her in lazy circles with his thumb. Her moans were rising in pitch. She felt as if she was melting low down. John seemed to appreciate the way she was reacting to him very much.

"Lord, the things I want to do to you, Anna," he growled. He pressed harder against her.

Her lower body pushed urgently against him, demanding him to keep rubbing. Christ, he had never had a woman as responsive as this. The effect that he had on Anna was mystifying. And yet it was so arousing, too. He was so hard and aching. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so hard. It was almost unbearable. Anna's hands twisted ardently in the bed sheets. She exhaled breathily.

"Anna," he panted into her ear, "Anna, my love, I can't possibly hold on much longer. You feel so good."

Her head lolled back. She was on fire. Her core was throbbing so much that she wanted to sob with need. Her nerves were tingling.

"Anna, can I...?" he began to ask desperately. He didn't need to finish the question.

"Yes," she said, the word hissing from between her clenched teeth. "Oh, yes."

It was all the encouragement he needed to remove his hand from her, push his hips forward and join them completely. Her hands slid frantically down his back and came to rest ardently at his backside. John held himself as still as he possibly could inside her, allowing them both the time to grow accustomed to and savour the feeling of them being as joined as humanely possible again. Somehow, he found the willpower to look down into her face and brush the stray strands of hair away from her eyes.

"Are you all right?" he asked her quietly, his voice hoarse.

She nodded. "I'm all right," she gasped, bringing a shaking hand up to cup his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaned in to her touch.

Much sooner than he imagined, Anna began to subtly shift her hips against him, forcing him to move a little inside her. He hissed in appreciation, limbs trembling with the effort of holding himself above her.

"I'm ready," she said softly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Quite sure?"

Somehow, she managed to roll her eyes. "Stop asking me that. Yes, I'm sure."

Desperately, he bent his head to capture her mouth. Neither of them could prevent their sounds of pleasure from escaping, both muffled by the press of the other's lips. John's hands moved to Anna's hips, gripping them tightly.

"Anna," he said ardently. "Anna." It seemed to be the only word he could formulate, offered up as the holiest of prayers to a deity he didn't even believe in.

"I know," Anna reassured him, her voice catching in her throat. "I know."

One of his hands slid from her hip to fumble blindly for hers. He found it, and she entwined their fingers completely, securely; it was a link that was unbreakable. Slowly, he began to rock his hips against hers. Her fingernails on the hand that was still clutching at his backside dug sharply into the skin there. He cried out at the incredible sensation, melding his tongue to the side of her neck. It made him feel so alive, cemented his realisation that he truly _was_ free, free to live his life with Anna by his side, free to touch her in whatever way they both desired, free to make love with her.

Frantic now, his lips left her throat to move deliriously over the contours of her face. Over her eyelids, which had fluttered closed at the increased pressure of his hips rocking into hers. Over her cheeks, so soft and flushed. Over her chin, that gorgeous jawline that he couldn't get enough of, so strong and elegantly defined, a testimony to the steely strength that she carried within her. And finally over her mouth, his tongue caressing her upper and lower lip in turn, sucking them into his mouth to taste properly, then darting his tongue into _her _mouth, along the line of her teeth, seeking out every crevice made available to him. Her tongue met his there, and her taste almost drove him wild. He was like a dying man feasting on a banquet; he would never grow weary of kissing her like this.

Presently, she pulled away from him so that she could concentrate her efforts on sucking in lungfuls of air. Her limbs were trembling wildly. Her expression was contorted into utter bliss.

"Please," she managed to pant, "oh, lord, please don't stop, no matter what!"

"I don't intend to," John managed to huff, dropping his head next to hers and groaning loudly. The pleasure filling every inch of his body was mind-blowing. He could feel it, so hot, all-encompassing. He could feel it burning in the tips of his toes, fuzzing over his mind. Anna's feet slid against the crook in his knees. The feel of her skin was intoxicating. He couldn't think. She invaded his every sense.

His hips moved in a steady cadence against hers. His stomach was in knots. He was close, he knew he was. There wasn't a chance of him being able to hold off much longer. It had been so long since he'd last held his wife like this; it wasn't at all surprising that their first time together was coming to such a premature close.

Anna's hand disentangled from his so that she could move it to the small of his back. He was sweating from his exertions. He could feel it pooling there, dripping from between his shoulder blades. His face felt hot. He could see the sweat glistening at her own temples. It was too warm. He was going to combust.

"Keep going," she was saying ardently, "keep going. Oh, please. I think I'm nearly there, Mr. Bates!"

Her muscles were beginning to tighten. She was on fire; the inferno raged within her, starting in her stomach, blistering its way through her veins. She could hear herself mewling over his laboured grunts, and was vaguely embarrassed by how loud she was. One of his hands, twisting almost painfully through her hair, left her to snake down her body, stroking her belly, drawing ever closer to the area that was desperate for his attention.

And then he touched her again. Her limbs spasmed. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her body in a never-ending arc. She was almost sobbing now, her begs for release rolling into one. The hairs on her body were standing on end. She was drenched in sweat.

And then she was flying, soaring higher than ever before. She was almost shrieking now, her head thrown back, her hands moving up to scramble desperately at his shoulder blades, which rippled tantalisingly under her touch. Her limbs turned to jelly beneath him, useless and weak, and she cried out his name over and over again, the most wonderful sound he had heard in his life. She clung to him in her transport of ecstasy, trusting him implicitly, and he thrust jerkily, his mouth moving upwards to capture hers. He was trembling so badly that he could barely keep steady, and Anna was no use to him now. The fire had spread to him. He was sure that he was going to die right then and there, in the middle of the most glorious moment he'd ever experienced. He was gasping and grunting as she pulled away from his mouth, her expression twisting as she shuddered with the aftershocks of her end.

"Anna," he whimpered. "Anna, I'm sorry. I can't hold on much longer. Oh, God. Anna."

Her reply was a strangled cry. Seeds of pleasure were being sown in his stomach, shooting downwards. He knew that he should check if Anna was all right, but he couldn't stop. Not now.

His breath puffed against the side of her face, so hot and raw. His face was screwed up in concentration. She reached up, kissed away the beads of sweat that had formed at his temple. She loved the taste of his exertion. And then he was finishing, crying out, his hands twisting frantically in the sheets. She couldn't stop herself from mewling at the sensation as her insides erupted with warmth.

In the aftermath, there was quiet.

John had collapsed on top of her, his entire weight pressing down on her body. Their harsh pants were the only things that rent the air in two; Anna's breasts were heaving with the effort of dragging in the air. John was aware of the fact that he was probably winding her - even now, after losing so much weight in prison, he was much heavier than she was - but for the moment he was just too comfortable to even contemplate moving. His limbs were trembling violently, as though cold had burrowed its way inside, and Anna stroked a hand soothingly over his lower back, feeling the sweat cool against his skin. He sighed against her, completely content, the tenderness in his wife's touch healing his pain. Already, lying in her arms, it seemed like his prison life was whole worlds away, as though it was a nightmare that had never happened. Anna's other hand was sifting through his hair, damp with perspiration. Her lips ghosted his temple, warm and gentle.

"That was rather nice," she said at length, and then they both started laughing, breathless and free.

Eventually, John found the strength to pull away from her. Exhausted, he collapsed onto his back, and Anna followed him, unwilling to leave him alone. She curled up around his left side, resting her head against his chest, moving one of her hands up to tangle in his chest hair. John shifted his arm under Anna's shoulders, pulling her closer to his side. And still they didn't speak to each other, completely content to lie in silence, drinking in the feel of each other's bare skin. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss against his chest.

"I love you," she said, murmuring against his skin.

He squeezed her tight. "I love you too."

She sighed quietly, snuggling up against him. "This has been a very long time coming, hasn't it?"

"It has indeed," he agreed. "But made all the more enjoyable because of it."

"Oh, most definitely," she murmured.

After a few minutes, John started to sit up, dislodging Anna from her place on his chest. He ran a hand through his thoroughly mussed hair as he did so, shuffling towards the edge of the bed.

Anna sat up, watching him with a raised eyebrow. "And just what do you think you're doing?"

"I thought I'd…take care of things," he said, pausing to glance pointedly over his shoulder at her. "And then I'll go and get us something to eat."

"_I_ should be the one worrying about getting us something to eat," she replied, stretching out her limbs.

"Well, you deserve a rest."

"And you don't?" she smirked at him. "Anyway, I'm not even hungry yet. Come back here, Mr. Bates."

He stared at her for a moment, lips quirking, before crawling back up the bed again, wincing as he did so.

"Is your knee troubling you?" she asked at once, looking worried.

He shook his head, smiling briefly. "It's not as bad as it has been. Honestly, there's nothing to worry about. It'll settle down soon enough."

"If it doesn't, you're to tell me straight away," she said. "Perhaps there will be something I can do to make it feel better."

"Like what?" he asked her, amused.

"Well, I'm not sure yet. But I'm your wife, and you'll let me tend to you, no matter how wounded your male pride might feel."

"I'm quite sure I can manage."

She rolled her eyes. "You are still going to have to accept the fact that I want to look after your wellbeing."

He grinned easily. "You've just been looking after my wellbeing, haven't you?"

"You're impossible."

"I know."

She lay back on her side, shivering slightly now. His arms came around her at once, pulling her back against him, his arms a band just under her breasts.

"Are you cold?" he asked her in concern.

"Maybe a little," she admitted. "It soon cools down, doesn't it?"

He hummed against her neck, understanding her completely. Now that the heated passion was over, it was rather astounding how quickly the body temperature dropped. Now the sweat on their bodies was cold and clammy.

"Come on, let's get under the covers," he said almost shyly, and Anna moved reluctantly while he lifted them for her to slip under. He followed her immediately, scooping her up in his arms. She snuggled herself against him, resting her hands against his arms, twisting her head on the pillow so that she could look at him. He squeezed her gently when he saw the expression on her face.

"What is it?" he asked her.

Her smirk grew.

"I'm not sure I like that look," he teased her. "It looks decidedly wicked."

"I'm insulted, Mr. Bates," she said. "When have I ever been anything but perfectly gracious and kind?"

"Oh, I can think of a few times," he growled in her ear. "What about when you concocted those decidedly devious plans to get back at Thomas and O'Brien?"

"Purely in self-defense," she protested. "And they were for _your _self-defense rather than mine. I was merely being a friendly colleague."

They both knew that it was a lie; the feelings of friendship had long since matured into love, as unstoppable as the tide.

His lips kissed behind her ear, making her sigh in satisfaction. "And you were certainly a shock on our wedding night. I'd never even believed you could know about some of the things that you did."

"I grew up on a farm," was her sassy retort. "Our house was small and I have four younger siblings. There are some things that _can't _not be known. And you _liked _it," she added. "So that makes your argument invalid."

He laughed. "If you say so."

"I _do _say so. And you should just admit it to liking it. That would be the honorable thing to do."

"And I know all about honour, don't I?" he lamented, but she could tell that he was playing from his tone of voice. Now was not the time to dwell on past mistakes and bad decisions.

"Yes, you do. So do the right thing, Mr. Bates."

She could feel his smirk against the back of her neck. "All right then, perhaps I did like it. But that doesn't take away the fact that you _are _a terrible influence."

Silence reigned for a few minutes. Anna spent the time with her eyes closed, soaking up the feeling of having her husband pressed so deliciously against her. His body heat emanated from him and made her feel drowsy. Her eyelids drooped slightly, but she forced them back open. It was barely past eight o' clock. It wasn't an acceptable time to fall asleep, surely?

"John?" she murmured.

"Yes?"

She had to smile at that – he sounded as sleepy as she felt. Twisting in his arms, she rubbed her nose against his as she moved to kiss him. His arms held her tightly against him.

"What's the matter?" he prompted her.

"Nothing much," she said. "But I do want to discuss the schedule of this week."

"That sounds like an intriguing idea," he murmured. "So what are your plans, then?"

"Well," she said, drawing the word out deliciously, her voice low and husky, making him shiver, "I have a few good ideas."

"Then pray tell," he said, moving to kiss her briefly. "I'm all ears. What do you want to do? Day trips to Harrogate and Kirkbymoorside? A couple of days at the seaside?"

"That sounds rather intriguing," she whispered. "But I have an even better idea."

"Now _I'm_ intrigued," he said.

"You will be when you hear the plan," was her mischievous response.

"Well, are you ever going to enlighten me? Or are you just going to leave me in suspense?"

"I'm enlightening you," she said. "Honestly, my mother always said that patience was a virtue. It seems like I'm going to have to teach you how to be patient one day."

"I look forward to it," he growled, nipping at the shell of her ear. "I'm sure that if anyone can teach me a lesson, you can. I'd be your eager student." His hands found their way to her backside, kneading the peachy skin. "Very eager indeed."

She indulged him for a moment, letting her eyes drift closed again. Her hands drifted up to his chest, fingers wandering through his chest hair.

John pulled back at length, looking down into her eyes as they opened to meet his gaze. "Well then?"

Anna smirked, stretching her limbs the length of his body. Her ankle came into contact with his, and she felt him shudder. "Well," she said, drawing out the word as she had done minutes earlier, "my plan is a lot simpler than yours. And cheaper."

"What, you'd prefer it if I didn't lavish you with trips to the seaside and little trinkets from the shops?" He sounded amused. "Anna, my love, we've waited all this time to be together. The one thing that I was looking forward to while I was in prison was treating you like the lady you are."

Anna raised her eyebrow. "Just the _one_ thing?"

He chuckled, his smile turning lecherous. "Well, perhaps it wasn't the only thing."

"Anyway, you're distracting me again. Let me say my piece."

"My apologies, dear. Do continue."

"Thank you," she said in mock exasperation. "It's nice to get a word in edgeways sometimes. Now, as I was just saying –"

"– Before I rudely interrupted –"

She shot him a warning glance, the overjoyed grin ruining the effect. "My plan consists of spending the whole week in this very cottage, not moving from this very bed."

There was shocked silence in the aftermath of her declaration, and she couldn't help but giggle at the expression on his face.

"Were you perhaps expecting something a little different?" she asked him, biting the inside of her cheek as her lips curled in a grin.

"I'd be lying if I wasn't expecting something a _little_ different," he managed to choke.

"We don't _need_ anything different," she announced decisively. "These bed sheets are the only things that we'll be using for the next week."

"And what about clothes?" he said, amused. "Surely we'll be needing those so we can go and fetch some supplies from the village?"

"Oh, most certainly not," she dismissed. "We won't be needing any food. That would mean we'd have to waste time preparing it. Time that could be better spent getting used to each other."

It made his heart sing to know that she was finally using those words in conjunction with their relationship rather than Lady Mary and Mr. Matthew. "Then surely if we're to be spending so much time getting used to each other, we'll need something to keep our energy up?"

"We can live off love alone," she said. "Right now, all I need is you and this bed."

"What if we just use whatever is already in these cupboards?" he suggested. "Then we wouldn't have to leave the cottage..." he nipped her bare shoulder, "...and I certainly wouldn't have any objections if you decided to cook for me naked."

"Not even that idea can tempt me," she said. "I mean it, Mr. Bates. Neither of us is leaving this bed for as long as we don't need to be up at Downton."

"I'm not sure how you expect us to survive with no provisions for a whole week."

"Well, perhaps I might allow you to take a nibble from the cake that Mrs. Patmore sent down with us."

"And that's it?"

"Oh, yes. Anything else would take far too long. And I've been patient enough to last me a lifetime."

He laughed, moving to kiss her. "You're a tough woman, Mrs. Bates."

"I am. And it doesn't do to mess with me. You of all people should know that."

"I'm certainly glad that you were always on my side."

"Well, I'll be on your side all week, darling," she purred. "If you treat me well, that is."

"I'll certainly try to."

The conversation petered out then. John shifted onto his back with a drained groan, moving a hand down to rub at his knee, and Anna moved her head so that it was pillowed against his chest, closing her eyes and concentrating on the feel of her husband's flesh shifting subtly against her ear. The thump of his heart could be heard through his skin, and she counted the beats. The beats that were for her and her alone.

His hand came to rest around her shoulders. She hummed tiredly as she was elevated even more, and he let his head loll to the side so that it rested against hers. The smell of her hair invaded his senses – flowery and sweet, he thought. Her skin was so soft, a balm against his world-weary limbs. John had stopped believing in God and the afterlife a long time ago, but if there was any such thing as heaven, then it certainly didn't exist reigning supreme in the sky; it existed right here, in this bed that would soon become familiar and comfortable enough for them to address as their own, pressed against his side, his very own angel, his very own saving grace. Heaven was put to shame when in comparison with his wife.

It was ten minutes later when he realised that his wife had drifted off to sleep moulded to his side. Her hair fanned out across his chest, softer than satin against him. One of her hands - the left - was flat against his chest. He could feel her wedding ring pressing against his skin. It was one of the most wonderful feelings he had ever experienced. Despite it all, Anna had stuck by him. She had given herself to him over all of the other men who she could have chosen. He would never cease to feel honoured when he thought about it. Her breath was issuing from her mouth, blowing warmly against him. There were a few unladylike snores in those, and he couldn't help but grin. God, she was beautiful. He had never loved her more. One of his legs was trapped between both of hers. The feel of her silken skin was intoxicating.

Sighing softly, he closed his eyes too. He had never felt more at peace. This was right. This was how his life should be. Just him and Anna in a home of their own, living and laughing, planning a future together, spending their time in the same shared space. And now they truly could have that life. No longer was it a dream that was always so cruelly out of reach. Now it was real, solid, something that they could grasp with both hands and build for themselves. It was _theirs_.

This last eighteen months had tested them both to the limit. It hadn't been easy. John hadn't expected it to be. A separation such as theirs would have broken most others. But Anna was unlike anyone else he had never known. Her resilience was breathtaking. And, for the countless time, John thanked his lucky stars that she had entered his life and transformed it so completely.

He intended to spend every remaining moment of his life showing Anna just how much he appreciated her. He would never let her down again. He was determined not to. The whole future lay out in front of them, theirs to write. Starting today.

And what a perfect day it was to begin with.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that was painful. I had to add the garter in here; it was too tempting to resist. I'm not sure if this has come out too choppy or not - a rather large chunk has been cut from it, so it feels choppy to me, but I know where the bits are missing. Hopefully it shouldn't be too noticeable to you.

Um, yeah. That's that. I'm going to go and bury my head now.


End file.
